


Obligations & Contracts

by hanap



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens), Anthony J. Crowley earns his Esq., Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale knows his Socratic method, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), I Wrote This For Me, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Law School, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), but you can read it too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanap/pseuds/hanap
Summary: "Angel," Crowley announced as he strode into the bookshop one day, "I've thought of something productive to do with my time.""What's that, my dear?""I'm going to study the law."[An ongoing ficlet series, in which Crowley and Aziraphale discover that legal concepts provide a shockingly helpful way to process their issues.]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 131





	1. Novation

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this started out as a ficlet series on Tumblr, but I decided I may as well post them here too! 
> 
> Context: Law school is draining all the creative juices out of my brain. At first, this was just a way for me to remember civil law concepts. But my study notes started turning into fic ideas, and one thing led to another - now here we are.
> 
> A caveat that the law may differ depending on where you are, et cetera. Enjoy!

“Alright, angel, I’m ready,” Crowley announced, collapsing into a pile of limbs onto the sofa, his legs dangling idly over the armrest. “Novation.”

Aziraphale looked up from the first edition of _Much Ado About Nothing_ he had been examining on his desk. “Oh. Go on, then. What is novation?”

“Novation is the total or partial extinction of an obligation…” Crowley’s voice trailed off in a growl of frustration. “Wait. Just give me a second, I know this.”

Aziraphale waited patiently, watching Crowley’s face scrunch up into the hopelessly endearing frown that he had come to identify as Crowley struggling to get the words from his mind to his tongue – sometimes, they lost their way halfway there and had some trouble getting back on track.

“Ah. Through the creation of a new obligation which extinguishes the old one,” Crowley finished triumphantly.

“Good,” Aziraphale said with approval, as Crowley glared at him from the sofa and squirmed. “Now, examples of novation.”

“According to what?”

Aziraphale hummed. “According to subject. Oh, define the two kinds and give an example for each.”

“Alright.” Crowley thought for a moment. “Objective novation, when the object or principal conditions of the obligation are changed.” He glanced at Aziraphale, who nodded encouragingly. “For example, when you went from being the Guardian of the Eastern Gate to being a sort of…” He flapped his hand aimlessly. “I dunno. Guardian angel for humanity.”

“How so?”

“Well, your obligation to be a guardian didn’t change,” Crowley said, his fingers idly tapping on the cushion under his head. “But because the humans weren't allowed to stay in the Garden anymore, your obligation to guard the Eastern Gate would have been incompatible with your obligation to guard the humans. So your obligation to guard the Garden was extinguished.”

“That’s right.” Aziraphale thought for a moment, then shuddered. “Do you remember that time Gabriel nearly replaced me with Michael in 1800? No promotion could have possibly been worth being reassigned back to Head Office. I do give you all the credit for rescuing me from that particular bind, dear boy.”

Crowley’s face turned the most attractive shade of pink at Aziraphale's praise, and he rubbed at his nose uncomfortably. Aziraphale smiled to himself. _The ridiculous creature_. “Go on, you aren’t done. Subjective novation.”

“Subjective novation, when the debtor or creditor is substituted with another person.” Crowley recited dutifully. “For example, that time in 1800, if Gabriel had actually replaced you with Michael as Heaven’s representative on Earth.”

“You have to give your own example,” Aziraphale reminded him, prodding at him with his foot.

Crowley swatted him away. “Alright, fine. Our entire Arrangement, then.”

Aziraphale tutted. “Be more specific.”

Crowley groaned. “1601, when you went to Edinburgh for the festival. You did a temptation for me. The cattle stealing one.”

“There’s another example there,” Aziraphale said, and waited expectantly.

Crowley threw an arm over his eyes, laid bare in the afternoon light streaming in through the window in the absence of his usual sunglasses. “And when I made _Hamlet_ successful for you.”

His ears were red, Aziraphale noticed, and he chuckled to himself internally. “Almost there. Explain.”

“The obligation of the blessing was still there. But the person of the debtor was substituted when I did the blessing for you.” Crowley said, his voice muffled by his arm.

“When you put it that way,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, “Who exactly was the creditor in that example?”

Crowley lifted his arm and turned his face toward Aziraphale. “Good question. Would it be the Almighty?”

“I suppose so. I _was_ an employee of Heaven, in a manner of speaking.”

“Interesting.” Crowley gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought for a moment. “Angel.”

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley pulled himself into something resembling an upright position (both of his feet were on the floor, at least). “Subjective novation requires the consent of the creditor for it to be valid.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said, catching on. “Your blessing on _Hamlet_ worked. Without visible repercussions on either of us. Which means –”

“We had God’s consent,” Crowley finished. “Implicitly, but still.”

"Oh." 

They sat staring at each other, stunned.

“Well, then,” Aziraphale finally said, “I suppose we both learned something new today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta [Offgray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/offgray) for tolerating all my silly ideas.
> 
> Please do subscribe if you liked this! Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/contraststudies) and [Tumblr!](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/)! (You can also find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/626803092824981504/alright-angel-im-ready-crowley-announced)!)


	2. Innominate Contracts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You see, the validity of a contract can’t be left to the will of one party.” Crowley’s gaze was intent on Aziraphale’s face, and he stalked towards Aziraphale, whose heart was pounding against his ribs. “So I believe that I am entitled to _damages_ , angel.”

Aziraphale found Crowley gazing out the window. These days, he rarely wore his sunglasses in the bookshop – it was easy to see that his eyes were glazed over.

“What are you thinking about, my dear?”

Startled, Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. “Oh. Nothing, really. Just contracts, I guess.”

“That is a rather broad topic for discussion.”

“Two kinds of contracts,” Crowley mused, apropos of nothing. “Nominate, when it has a specific designation in law. Innominate, when it doesn’t.”

Aziraphale waited. He’d learned that when Crowley was turning something over in his mind, he tended to meander through several topics before he finally arrived at his point.

“Innominate contracts cover everything that isn’t specifically named in the law. So everything that isn’t sale, or lease, or agency… and all that.”

“Correct.”

“So the Arrangement’s an innominate contract. _Facio ut facias.”_

 _I do that you may do_. A reciprocal obligation. “You could say that, yes.” Aziraphale still couldn’t quite see where Crowley was going with this.

“Yeah. And contracts always have at least two parties. In this case, you and me.” Crowley was staring out the window again, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the distance. “The Arrangement was perfected the moment we agreed on its terms. It binds both of us.”

“That’s right.” _Might as well help the dear boy along_ , Aziraphale thought. “You’ve got two of the five characteristics, autonomy and consensuality. What are the other three?”

Crowley laughed as he turned to look at Aziraphale, and it was a sound that still caught Aziraphale off-balance sometimes – these days, it bubbled out of Crowley at the most unexpected of moments.

“Well, if you want me to keep going. The Arrangement, as a contract, has the force of law between us. ‘Law’, in a manner of speaking, of course,“ Crowley said, waving a hand. “We’re bound not only to fulfill its terms, but also to deal with its consequences in keeping with good faith.” He cocked his head, thinking. “And only we are bound by it. Third parties can’t interfere unless they’re directly affected.”

“Obligatoriness and relativity.” Aziraphale nodded. “One more.”

“The fulfillment of a contract relies on both parties and can’t be left to the will of one of them. Same goes with its… extinguishment.” The golden eyes flicked up to Aziraphale’s for a second before he turned back to the window.

 _Ah_. Aziraphale’s mouth grew quite dry at this pronouncement. “That’s right.”

Crowley shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders pulled in close to his ears. “So, for the purposes of this example,” he finally said, “the Arrangement couldn’t have ended because mutual assent is required to abandon a contract. One party can’t renounce the contract without the consent of the other.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth and closed it again. He had no idea what to say. They’d never spoken of the bandstand, nor of Crowley’s final desperate plea for them to leave for Alpha Centauri.

“You see, the validity of a contract can’t be left to the will of one party.” Crowley’s gaze was intent on Aziraphale’s face, and he stalked towards Aziraphale, whose heart was pounding against his ribs. “So I believe that I am entitled to _damages_ , angel.”

“Quite right,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley stood right in front of him now, his golden eyes pinning Aziraphale firmly in place. He knew he had to choose his next words with the utmost care. “Only there isn’t any contract to speak of at all, is there?”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me, Crowley. What is a merger of rights?”

“Merger of rights, or confusion,” Crowley said automatically, though his head was tilted like he didn’t quite understand. “The obligation is extinguished because the qualities of creditor and debtor meet.”

Aziraphale swallowed and hesitantly held out his hand to Crowley. “Yes. Quite a similar situation to this. To us. We’re on our own side, as you phrased it,” he said softly. “No creditors, no debtors… in fact, I daresay this stopped being transactional a very long time ago.”

Crowley blinked twice. He was startled, Aziraphale saw – Crowley rarely blinked. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, Aziraphale’s hand hovering in the space between the two of them. Then Crowley slowly lifted his hand and clasped Aziraphale’s fingers gently, almost timidly, nothing like the firm grip when they had switched corporations. He looked up through his lashes at Aziraphale, every line of his body preternaturally still but for the visible rise and fall of his chest.

“That being said… I would be more than happy to pay whatever damages you intend to collect on. You know that.” Aziraphale squeezed his hand lightly. “You only have to ask.”

To his surprise, Crowley shook his head. He took another step closer. His serpent’s eyes were molten gold, not a trace of sclera left. “No.”

“No?” Aziraphale was bewildered. “Why not?”

“Non-transactional now. You and me.” Crowley took a deep breath, laced his fingers between Aziraphale’s. “No contracts. No obligations.”

“No extinguishments. No conditions.” Aziraphale smiled at him, barely able to breathe around the happiness that was filling him – overflowing, overwhelming joy. “I think that can be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to churn these out as often as I can while I've got time, so you might be getting daily updates for a bit!
> 
> You can also find this ficlet on my [Tumblr](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/626881590829711360/aziraphale-found-crowley-gazing-out-the-window)!


	3. Knowledge of Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you remember that time in 1838 when you wrote to me? When we were supposed to meet for tea at Woburn Abbey to talk about a blessing you needed me to do for you?”

Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with the cloth napkin, blissfully enjoying the last bite of his lamb fillet as the waitstaff came by to clear their plates for dessert. He looked up to see Crowley gazing at him as usual, chin cupped in his hand as though thinking hard.

“What are you in the mood for now?” Aziraphale asked, knowing Crowley would only pick at his chocolate soufflé with vanilla chantilly before pushing it over to Aziraphale, claiming that he was full.

“Consent,” Crowley said absently. Aziraphale, who had been taking a sip of his wine, promptly choked.

“W – what?” Aziraphale spluttered into his napkin, coughing. A snap of Crowley’s fingers cleared his airway, and he took a deep breath with relief, wiping at his streaming eyes. “Oh, my dear boy. I only meant to ask if you were feeling up to another bottle of wine or if you wanted to switch to coffee already.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s fingers drummed on the table, but his eyes were gazing into space behind his Valentino sunglasses. “See, angel, contracts are a meeting of minds, right?”

It appeared Crowley had something on his mind again. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And consent is an essential element of a contract. There’s an offer made. And the acceptance has to be absolute.” Crowley was building up steam now. “But an acceptance made by letter or telegram will only render the contract binding once the offeror receives the letter.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, bemused. “What about it?”

Crowley turned his head slightly to look at Aziraphale. “Do you remember that time in 1838 when you wrote to me? When we were supposed to meet for tea at Woburn Abbey to talk about a blessing you needed me to do for you?”

“Yes, and I received your letter late –” _Oh_. Aziraphale just narrowly avoided laughing in Crowley’s face, but it was a very near thing. “You ridiculous creature. The way you went on about it afterwards when I didn’t show up that day – how was I supposed to know that you had accepted my invitation to tea?”

He remembered it as though it were yesterday – he had received Crowley’s answer to his invitation the day _after_ their scheduled meeting over afternoon tea. To his surprise, Crowley had sulked with a most unwonted vim. Aziraphale had gallantly begged her pardon despite having had no fault in the matter, and had taken her to a lovely luncheon instead the week after.

“I – I didn’t think you would ever stand me up like that!” Crowley protested, his cheeks turning quite red.

“My dear, that was my whole point. I would _never_ stand you up like that.”

Their bickering was briefly interrupted by the arrival of their dessert, and Aziraphale sighed at the pavlova elegantly arranged with layers of fruit and cream. He looked up at Crowley to see him making a face that could only be described as a pout as he glared at his chocolate soufflé. “Still not happy about it.”

It was so endearing that Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. Crowley had worn the exact same expression that day they had finally been able to meet for their luncheon. “Do you know what I still can’t believe?”

“What?” Crowley lifted his eyes to Aziraphale’s, and a good thing too – the soufflé was beginning to deflate from the intensity of his stare.

“That you dressed as a widow for three years just because I didn’t get your letter on time.”

“I thought you forgot, alright?” Crowley muttered petulantly.

“Half of London’s high society was talking about how much you loved your dead husband! Poor Mrs. Crowley, still veiled in black an entire year after the usual period of mourning!”

Crowley made a noise composed of an entirely unintelligible set of consonants before he recovered himself. “I am perfectly entitled to sulk for as long as I please,” he said loftily.

Aziraphale was still trying very hard not to laugh. “Well, the contract was never perfected since I didn’t get the letter.” He reached over and covered Crowley’s hand with his own. “Regardless, I apologize for hurting your feelings, my dear. I promise we will have as many luncheons and suppers and afternoon teas as you want, until you’re satisfied.”

“I may sulk until the end of time,” Crowley announced.

“Then I will continue making it up to you until the end of time.”

Crowley’s eyes widened visibly even behind the dark lenses, and his pout relaxed into a soft smile. WIth a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale’s rapidly collapsing pavlova was quickly restored to its original splendor. Aziraphale smiled back at him and squeezed his hand gratefully.

“Eat your dessert, angel,” Crowley said, placing the now-perfect soufflé next to the pavlova as Aziraphale beamed. “I’ll get us another bottle of wine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s ficlet inspired by [art by Valerie_Sparkle](https://twitter.com/Valerie_Sparkle/status/1285554659286036482), because I absolutely could not get the idea of Crowley dressing as a Victorian widow out of my mind.
> 
> You can also find this ficlet on my [Tumblr](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/626974631788675072/aziraphale-dabbed-at-his-mouth-with-the-cloth)!


	4. Vices of Consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Damages, angel, that’s the solution. You’re entitled to them too.” Crowley grinned. It had become a well-worn joke by now, to tease about how much they owed each other.
> 
> Aziraphale smiled back at him. Now and then, it struck him what an enormous thing they had done, all so that they could be here at the bookshop again having a drink together. “It’s a very good thing we cancel each other’s debts out, then.”

“Vice of consent, drunkenness,” Crowley said suddenly one evening as he walked back into the bookshop from the backroom, a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape in hand. Several bottles already stood empty on the small table in the backroom, one of them teetering perilously close to the edge.

“What?” Aziraphale blinked blearily at Crowley as he collapsed onto the sofa and refilled his glass.

“Drunkenness.” The hiss in Crowley’s voice was beginning to slip through, his tongue weighed down by wine. “Contracts are voidable if you enter into one while drunk.”

“Hmm, yes. Why?”

“Because.” Crowley pulled off his sunglasses, flung them into a corner of the sofa. “Impaired capacity. To – to give intelligent consent.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, trying not to lose the thread of the conversation. “What exactly is your point?”

“My point is…” The wine was sloshing dangerously in Crowley’s glass as he gestured. “My point is. The Antichrist. That’s my point.”

“The Antichrist?” Aziraphale repeated, puzzled.

“Yep,” Crowley said, his lips popping on the P. “Good thing we, you know.” He waved a hand impatiently, searching for the word. “Sobered up.”

Aziraphale hummed in understanding. “Before we shook on it.”

“Exactly.”

He watched as Crowley got to his feet and began picking up and setting down books at random, ambling around the bookshop in that undulating way of his, the sway of his hips even more pronounced now that he was drunk.

“You know, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, pulling the wine-sodden mess of his thoughts together, “I could argue that not telling me about the hellhound was… Causal fraud. Incidental fraud. No, causal fraud.”

“Causal fraud?” Crowley wandered back to Aziraphale, listing heavily to the right as he went. “You’re saying… you wouldn’t have agreed if you knew about the hellhound?”

“Er, well. No, I suppose I still would have.”

“Incidental fraud, then.” Crowley shrugged grandly before sprawling on the sofa again, his wineglass dangling over the armrest. “I will admit that the hellhound was, erm. What’s the term for it, angel?”

“A material fact.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Which you did _not_ tell me.”

“You would’ve still agreed to do it even if you did, so… Damages, angel, that’s the solution. You’re entitled to them too.” Crowley grinned. It had become a well-worn joke by now, to tease about how much they owed each other.

Aziraphale smiled back at him. Now and then, it struck him what an enormous thing they had done, all so that they could be here at the bookshop again having a drink together. “It’s a very good thing we cancel each other’s debts out, then.”

Crowley laughed and got up from the sofa once more, but to Aziraphale’s surprise, Crowley sauntered right up to where he sat in his favorite chair, and Crowley’s legs folded beneath him until he was a heap of limbs on the ground, his head pressed against Aziraphale’s leg. When Crowley looked up, Aziraphale saw that the gold of Crowley’s eyes had spread right to the edges.

“S’this okay?” Crowley murmured.

“Of course, dear boy.” Aziraphale’s hand came up, and tentatively he touched the red curls that Crowley had allowed to grow out again since the day that the world hadn’t come to an end. “Is this alright?”

He felt Crowley nod against his thigh, and carefully he ran his fingers through the thick waves of Crowley’s hair, marveling at the softness. “Do you think we should sober up?”

Crowley sighed. “Yeah.”

The empty bottles on the table refilled with wine as they miracled themselves sober once more. Aziraphale’s tongue felt unpleasantly dry in his mouth as the alcohol left his system – then he suddenly realized he still had his hand in Crowley’s hair. He pulled away quickly, his face suddenly heating up. “Oh. My apologies. That was very –”

The words stuck in his throat as Crowley lifted his head with a fierce glare on his face. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Erm. Touching your hair.” Aziraphale groped desperately for a way to explain himself. “You were drunk. Or, well, we were drunk,” he clarified. “Impaired ability to give consent, as you said.”

Crowley sniffed. “Well. I didn’t mind.” He got to his feet, and Aziraphale suddenly became aware of Crowley’s warmth the moment that he felt its absence – but then Crowley held out his hand to Aziraphale. “Not drunk now, are we?”

Aziraphale took his hand, and Crowley pulled him to his feet. For a moment, they stood there looking at each other, but Crowley’s nerve seemed to have failed him. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand. “What is it? Tell me,” he said softly, his eyes searching Crowley’s face.

“I – I… Ngk. Angel.”

“My dear. Consent can be given in an express or implied manner, yes?”

Crowley nodded, his golden eyes wide.

“But the offer must be certain.” And in a moment of courage, Aziraphale lifted his hand and touched the mark of the serpent on Crowley’s face, traced the chiseled line of his jaw. “So – so you must be clear. About what you want.”

“I want.” Crowley stopped, and Aziraphale saw him swallow visibly. “I want. To kiss you. Can I?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale whispered. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been forgetting to thank my beta Offgray. You're the best. 
> 
> My brain is all mushy right now from work and studying so it might be a few days before the next one! Thanks to everyone who's been reading these little things I've been writing! You have no idea how boring this subject is. Thank goodness for these two - they make it so much better.
> 
> You can also find this ficlet on [Tumblr](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/627062768356540416/vice-of-consent-drunkenness-crowley-said)!


	5. Contracts Classified by Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So the holy water was – not to be crass, Aziraphale, I’m just using the language of the law here – to reward me for a service I previously rendered for you.”

“Angel, help me out,” Crowley groaned.

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale laid down the first edition of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ he had been re-reading for most of the morning and moved his cup of tea away from where it was balanced precariously on the edge of his desk. He leaned over and plucked the small black book from Crowley’s knee. “Classifications of contracts according to cause,” he read aloud.

“Mm.” Crowley held up three fingers. “Onerous, remunerative, and gratuitous.”

“Explain each and give an example.”

“In onerous contracts, there’s a promise of a service or a thing by one person to another,” Crowley said. “Like when we were still actively abiding by the Arrangement. I did blessings for you, and you did temptations for me.” His lips curved into a smirk. “You tempted for me.” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale glared at Crowley. “That was indeed onerous, I suppose.”

“That’s the easy one.” Crowley stretched out on the sofa, looking for all the world like the satisfied snake that he was, basking in the morning sun. “Next is remunerative contracts, where one party rewards a service previously rendered by the other.”

“For example?” Aziraphale prompted.

“I want to say when I blessed _Hamlet_ , but no,” Crowley said thoughtfully. “That was my treat.”

“Yes, you did mention that.” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley gratefully as he scowled. The dear boy could be so ridiculous about his own kindness sometimes. “Give me a different one then.”

“When you, erm.” 

To Aziraphale’s surprise, there was an unmistakable flush creeping up Crowley’s face. “What is it?” 

Crowley faltered, then plunged on. “1967. When you – you brought me the holy water.”

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open. “What in the world do you mean by that?”

A deluge of spluttered consonants flooded from Crowley’s lips before he recovered himself. “Well. I got you out of the church, didn’t I? Your books, too. And I drove you back here afterwards.”

“So?” 

“So the holy water was – not to be crass, Aziraphale, I’m just using the language of the law – to reward me for a service I previously rendered for you.”

Oh, dear. Something had been egregiously misunderstood here. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said slowly. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What’re you on about?” Crowley sat up from where he had been lounging on the sofa, looking puzzled. 

Aziraphale shut the little book he held. “Crowley, is that what you’ve thought all this time? That I gave you the holy water because you saved my books?”

“Well. Yeah.” Crowley looked up at him, a pleading expression in his eyes. “Only explanation that makes sense.”

“Oh, my dear boy. When I gave you the holy water, that was… _gratuitous_. Define that for me, while we’re on the topic.”

“Gratuitous contracts,” Crowley recited, still looking confused. “Designed solely to procure the welfare… of the beneficiary.”

“Keep going.”

“Without any intent of producing any – any sssatisfaction for the donor,” Crowley continued, the flush on his face growing steadily darker as a hiss slipped from his tongue involuntarily. “Self-interest is totally absent on the part of the donor.” 

“Do you understand?”

“ _Angel_ ,” Crowley muttered. “You’re killing me here.”

“I gave you the holy water because I _wanted_ to.” Aziraphale hesitated. “I suppose that’s not quite entirely true. I didn’t want to. But I wouldn’t have you risking your life with your ridiculous plans of robbing churches and whatnot. You know this. I’ve told you this before.”

Crowley scrubbed a hand over his face, now nearly as red as his hair, and shrugged. “Yeah, alright.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I do,” Crowley objected, perhaps too quickly. “Really. I do. Nothing to worry about, angel.”

“The demon doth protest too much, methinks.”

A strangled noise left Crowley’s throat, and he threw himself back on the sofa in a huff, curling in on himself with his back turned toward Aziraphale. A smile twitched on Aziraphale’s lips as he got to his feet and gently ran his fingers through the red curls that Crowley took such pride in growing – they were nearly shoulder-length now, and softer than silk in Aziraphale’s hand.

“My dear, I know I haven’t made it easy for you to believe me, and that is entirely my fault.” 

Crowley made a muffled sound into the paisley blanket.

“But I mean it with all my heart when I say that I did that for you. Solely and exclusively for your welfare. No other reason.”

At last, Crowley’s face emerged from hiding as he turned toward Aziraphale, though he wouldn’t meet Aziraphale’s gaze. “Okay. I just, er –” He grimaced in frustration. “Just remind me sometimes, alright?” 

Aziraphale dropped a kiss lightly on the crown of red hair, the black tattoo, the corner of Crowley’s mouth, one after another until Crowley turned toward him, tilting his face up.

“As often as you like,” Aziraphale said, as he bent down and pressed his lips softly against Crowley’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta Offgray for catching an atrocious mistake I had in my first draft on the definition of onerous contracts!
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who's been reading this! It's so wild to me that there are other people reading and enjoying these silly things I've been writing to get legal concepts firmly embedded in my mind lol. More ficlets coming up this week hopefully!


	6. Elements of An Actionable Conduct

Aziraphale was bent over a newly acquired first edition, inscribing his name carefully with a dip pen, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. **  
**

“Elements of an actionable conduct,” a voice suddenly said very close to his ear.

Aziraphale jumped, nearly upsetting his inkwell, and turned to glare at Crowley, who was bent over laughing, leaning hard against a table piled high with books. “Must you really?”

Crowley drew his hand over his eyes, wiping away the tears. His shoulders were still shaking with mirth. Aziraphale wanted to smack him with the spine of the nearest hardbound book he could reach. 

“Couldn’t resist,” Crowley said, chortling. “Four elements: duty, breach, injury, and proximate causation.”

“ _You’re_ the proximate causation,” Aziraphale muttered. 

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, angel.” Crowley planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Give an example,” he said, adjusting his tiny glasses before bending over his book once more.

“When book girl hit me with her bicycle.”

Aziraphale threw him a withering look over his shoulder. “ _You_ hit her, Crowley.”

“Semantics.” Crowley shrugged expansively. “But you know, legally I’m only a distracted driver if I have a device in my hand.” 

Aziraphale didn’t even deign to answer. Crowley sighed loudly. “Fine, have it your way. I had a duty to drive responsibly. Must be something about that in the law somewhere.”

“And?”

“I breached my duty when I hit her.” Crowley frowned. “She hit me, though.”

 _Stubborn demon._ Aziraphale shook his head before setting the nib of the pen back against the paper and writing with a careful hand. “And what’s the proximate cause?”

“She didn’t have her lights on.”

Aziraphale, who was carefully crossing the T in “Antiquarian,” didn’t answer.

“Alright, fine,” Crowley grumbled. “She did. But so did I. And the Bentley lights are so much brighter. She should have seen that.”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said, dotting his I’s now. “But that’s not the right answer, is it?”

Crowley groaned loudly. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Aziraphale hummed. “Do you remember, dear, when I said you protested too much?”

“ _Angel_.” A growl before the rest of Crowley’s words poured out in a torrent. “Alright, yes, it was because I failed to observe a reasonable amount of care while I was driving.” He shuddered. “Can’t believe I just said that.”

“I’m very proud of you,” Aziraphale said absently, watching the ink dry on the page. Suddenly, he was swept up into Crowley’s arms, the slitted golden eyes gazing at him unblinkingly. 

“Pay attention to me, angel, if you’re so proud.”

“I’m so sorry, dear boy.” Aziraphale tried rather unsuccessfully not to chuckle. “But tell me first – was that a tort or a quasi-delict?”

Crowley scowled. “I haven’t gotten there yet.” 

Aziraphale’s hand came up to trace the line of Crowley’s jaw. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now,” Crowley said grumpily, gazing at Aziraphale’s lips.

With a laugh, Aziraphale pulled his demon close. “I’m paying attention now. No need to pout,” he said, thoroughly kissing the objection right out of Crowley’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is no longer part of obligations and contracts, but whatever. It's fine. Let's just let them bicker in peace.
> 
> Find this fic on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628980020780711936/aziraphale-was-bent-over-a-newly-acquired-first)!


End file.
